


The Way to a Man's Heart

by Enterthetadpole



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: GMM - Freeform, Good Mythical Morning - Freeform, M/M, rhink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2019-10-21 16:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17646056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enterthetadpole/pseuds/Enterthetadpole
Summary: Rhett eats weird things for a living. At least, that's a big part of what he does...





	1. Bellyache

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos encourage me! Thank you for reading!

The look that the nurse gave him was Rhett's first real indication that this was not the best plan. He was fine with just grinning and bearing it through yet another show devoted to eating a variety of - well, food wasn't the best term for some of the things that he ingested today in the pursuit of YouTube views and likes from the fans.   
  
"Pig's blood and sardines?" the nurse had repeated. The tone was baffled, as if saying it again could help her understand some mystery language that was placed in front of her in written form.   
  
"It was an attempt to see if one flavor could cancel out the other," Rhett explained, trying his damnedest to at least not look like he was out of his mind, even though his dietary actions were screaming quite the opposite.   
  
The nurse frowned. The puzzlement twisting into gentle concern for the overall welfare of the incredibly tall man sitting awkwardly on the examination table. The legs were so long that his socked toes actually grazed the cold tiled floor.   
  
"Anything else unusual?"  
  
Rhett chortled bitterly at the question. It was better to ask what unusual things he _didn't_ eat nowadays. The list was much smaller and simpler.   
  
"Day before yesterday I had different hot sauces."  
  
The nurse typed a few words on the keyboard in front of her. If it wasn't for the deepening expression of worry on her face, Rhett might have felt confident enough to ask her if the types of stomach pains he was having could just somehow magically disappear on their own. Maybe a cup of apple cider vinegar to gulp down after the show, or maybe it was a spoonful of sugar. It worked in Mary Poppins, didn't it?  
  
"Hot sauces are fairly safe as long as they are taken in moderation," the nurse muttered. Her eyes were still staring at the screen in front of her as she continued her notes. "What was the food used with the hot sauce? Chicken wings?"  
  
"No...just drank out of the bottle."  
  
Rhett winced at the large sigh that escaped from the woman's mouth, and winced again at the faster typing on the keyboard. Could he be placed in a mental institution for his eating habits? Would being committed be so bad at this point? Do those type of hospitals have normal pudding not made out of horseradish?  
  
"Mr. McLaughlin? Did you hear my last question?"  
  
Hearing his name so formally and sternly was enough to shake him out of his thoughts. If Rhett was going to get some help for his stomachaches he needed to focus. That was getting harder and harder to do, though. Especially when your co-host is trying to get you fired from the show that you help create.  
  
"No, sorry...just in a lot of pain."  
  
She shook her head, and at least this time the expression on her face was one of genuine fret. Or if not, she was very good at faking it.   
  
"I asked if you have been dealing with anything other than the stomach cramps and occasional diarrhea. Like vomiting or dry heaving..."  
  
"Yes to both of those. More dry heaving than actually anything coming up. God...how I wish sometimes stuff would just come up."  
  
More tapping from the keyboard is what greeted Rhett's ears. To give himself something to do other than stare in wide eyed dread at the woman judging him on so many levels, he instead decided to look at his bare knees and calves. The coolness of the air causing the hairs on his bottom half to stick up in strange angles as he waited for the next question. Mercifully though, the next noises was the nurse standing up and starting to wheel her chair and small table out of the room.  
  
"That's all the questions for now," she said. "The doctor will be in soon to talk to you. Just do your best to relax, and in case you are concerned, Mr. McLaughlin, your eating habits aren't the oddest I've seen."  
  
This information made all the world of difference to Rhett, and the sigh that left his body could have broken through glass if there had been a window inside of the room. With a final small smile, the nurse was gone, and Rhett again was left with only his thoughts. Considering Rhett's overactive mind, this was not the best company.  
  
He already knew that Stevie and Alex had not  _truly_ bought his claim that he was just going in for a check up. Not like it really was their place to ask too many questions as producers, but they were more friends than employees to Rhett after so many years. Plus both of them knew that the last couple of eating challenges had been rougher than usual.   
  
The problem was Chase, if Rhett really took a moment to think about it. Granted, he had plenty of time to think now while he sat half naked waiting for a doctor to tell him what he already knew.   
  
The door opened again to reveal a tall man with thick black hair shimmering with silver strands near the edges. The dark rimmed glasses framed the most electric blue eyes that Rhett had ever seen, and the rear end was -  _holy man._  
  
Thankfully Rhett was able to pull his gaze back to an appropriate place before the doctor noticed he was being leered at.  _Jesus, Rhett get it together! You act like you hadn't just gotten laid just the other day!_  
  
"So, Mr...McLaughlin? Am I pronouncing that correctly?"  
  
"You did," Rhett replied, already rolling his eyes in spite of himself. "Just..Rhett if you don't mind, doc. Makes me think my dad is hiding underneath the sink or somethin' worse."  
  
The doctor gave a small laugh, and that didn't help Rhett at all. The laugh was honest, and absolutely adorable. Dangerous territory was slowly heading towards Rhett. Was he destined to be the Titanic or the iceberg?  
  
"All right, Rhett," the doctor said with a smile. "Dr. Charles Neal, but you can call me Link. I prefer first names as well. Now then, what can we do to get you to stop eating the way that you are eating?"


	2. Tummy Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait for this next chapter. Thank you for sticking around!

"What can we do to get you to stop eating the way that you are eating?"

Rhett stared at the man in front of him. The question he had asked was baffling him in more ways than he wanted to admit. It was said so calmly and matter of fact. With the air of trying to find out why a grown man of 40 seemed to want to place horrible food and horrible food adjacent items into his mouth willingly and chew. Chew them down and focus all of his throat muscles on not being the more sensible part of his body and swallowing. Sure, there had been times that Rhett had won the battle. Crazy hot peppers, various animal testicles and feet. Glue on one really insane episode. However usually the war was lost. The agony of diving either face or ass to whatever toilet he could get to first. 

He did have a barf bucket as well. Even had his name on it in swirly golden letters, but most time there was just gagging that ended up heading in the direction of the plastic container. More often than not, his stomach seemed to be outright punishing him for his stupidity. Self preservation is what his mother Diane would call it. Thankfully Rhett never called her when on Skype of any other video app that would allow her to see the way his face would cringe. He hated that his mother was right on so many levels. He felt like he was five years old again and trying his best to explain to his momma why he thought that pickle and ketchup sandwiches sounded delicious at the time that he made the decision. He like pickles and he liked ketchup. Combining them together should have been perfect. It had not. 

Maybe that's where this need to destroy his stomach first reared up. His small hands squeezing happily against the plastic bottle of generic tomato ketchup. The white bread already breaking apart from the brine from the pickle spears. Experimental to a dangerous degree with his hunger, Rhett had survived on fried dishes from local truck stops and corner stores throughout most of his teenage and college years. There were more important things to worry about than what was going inside of his belly after all. He needed to get to class, then work. He needed to stop the freaking growling before his favorite television shows came on. 

"I eat weird stuff for my job," Rhett said finally. There was a small shrug in his voice that he hoped to convey that it's just one of those things that just couldn't be helped. 

Dr. Neal actually quirked an eyebrow. The right one. Like you see in some of those screwball comedies in the 80s. All that was missing was a record scratch. Wow, most people in his audience probably didn't even know what a record scratch was. Great. Now he felt stupid _and_ old. The doctor picked up a iPad on the side table and looked over it. His light colored eyes scanned from left to right. Obviously looking over some sort of notes. Rhett assumed that the nurse had made a real point of making sure to place as many ways of saying that Rhett was out of his mind without actually saying it. It would look better on the insurance paperwork. 

"Hmm," Dr. Neal said softly. His brow was furrowed in quiet contemplation as he continued to read. Rhett could tell that whatever flirty smiles that this handsome man had given him before were melt into sympathetic sighs at any moment now. 

"I have an internet show," Rhett threw out because why the hell not? He already was drowning in embarrassment. He might as well make his death at least a little more interesting. 

The doctor tilted his head up at this. The stunning eyes met Rhett's nervous face and then nodded his head. 

"Yes," Dr. Neal said casually. "That was in your file. You work with a gentleman by the name of Chase Hilt?"

Rhett nodded back, half wondering what Chase had to do with this.

"And does Mr. Hilt also...entertain by eating strange foods?"

Another nod. Rhett could sense heat rising in his cheeks and back of his neck. 

"Has he also been having issues with his stomach or bowels as far as you know?"

There was no way to really know the answer to this once again reasonable question. If Rhett actually went on social media more than he was contractually obligated, and he was comfortable with actually announcing his relationship with Chase on Facebook, he would list it as _It's Complicated_. As far as he could tell, Chase didn't enjoy what they ate most of the time, but his retching wasn't nearly as bad as Rhett's ever was. This was mostly due to Chase being over a decade younger than Rhett. At least that's what Rhett would tell himself as his stomach rejected what he just tried to give it when the camera were rolling. Occasionally he would hear Chase also groaning beside him, but most of the time his youthful face would turn interesting colors, but no actual throwing up would happen. 

It was harder to tell what would go on after everyone left for the day. Maybe Chase was able to hold in any real pain until he was at his own apartment. It's not like Rhett saw his cohost more than every once in a while away from work. Well, unless they made time for having a quick fuck now and then when the mood both hit them. 

Facebook had the right idea. It was complicated. 

"I'm not sure." Rhett decided that honesty was the best plan of action. 

Dr. Neal hummed in a noncommittal way. His slender frame leaned against the same side table as he tapped on the iPad. Rhett swallowed a sigh.

"Do you have any weird food related shows within the next few days?" 

Unfortunately they did. A _Will It_ episode based around different types of soufflés. Josh and the rest of the crew had been really tight lipped about the plans for what was going to be in them, but from the smiles and whispers that Rhett kept on seeing during their last meeting, he knew that it was going to be a rough one. 

"I take your look of horror as a yes, Rhett?"

Rhett sighed again. This time he didn't try to hide it. 

The doctor gave another hum, but this time there seemed to be a weight behind it. As if the dark haired man was thinking hard. Then a small grin appeared, and Rhett's stomach gave a twist that had nothing to do with his food at all. 

"Would you allow me to visit you at the set?"

Rhett gaped at Dr. Neal. His eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He was expecting another question, but sure as hell not that one. 

"Umm, yeah...I think that could be arranged," Rhett said, trying and failing to not choke on the last couple of words. "Is...there something that - "

"I need to see how the food in prepared," Dr. Neal said smoothly, "And see  the exact portions and other factors involved in what you eat. I also understand that you want to keep seeing me for your medical issues quiet for right now. Just say that I'm a new friend who is a huge fan of the show. I'll be discreet about why I'm actually there."

There was more involved than just telling the crew and Chase about a new person just being on their closed set, but if Dr. Neal could help him with getting through his stomach problems then it was definitely worth it. So sure, Rhett would bend a few rules. 

Hell, it's not like he hadn't bent them before. 


End file.
